Journey

The rain poured down in the sonoran desert

Painting the brown earth green in strokes

While the drops rolled down the hills

And filled all the holes below.

The Woman—you don’t know her, and this is fascinating,

but she actually made the paper you hold in your hand—

told me something worth writing:

“When you’re on a journey, your senses are heightened.

You experience what no one else can.”

I believe the ultimate journey must be done alone. 

When you walk with no one you are forced to search

For life in hidden places.

I entered a cactus once

through the pink flower at the top

that blossoms only before the sun rises.

The petals were soft and inside the cactus the walls were cool

and smooth. I landed in a milky-foam illuminated by a green glow.

I drank and was filled

With liquid, only enough for one.

I get shivers to this day when I walk past the cactus

And marvel that once I only knew her from the outside.

I thought I knew no one to tell this too,

Or of the other hidden places I’ve found life.

But today, as the rain soaked the parched earth,

The Woman traced the lines on her aged hands

And blew a gentle breath until the paper you hold appeared.

There are other hidden places to find

And we are only ever alone for a brief moment in eternity.